


There and Back Again

by wanderingempress



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, OT3, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:38:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2575112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingempress/pseuds/wanderingempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura, Danny, and Carmilla take a trip to get away from campus after finals. It's not without its challenges (it is a roadtrip, after all), but it's ultimately a happy journey. Set sometime after the evil vampire situation is worked out, no deaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, somebody posted on Tumblr that they wanted somebody to write an OT3 driving fic, and I thought I'd give it a shot--and it did diverge from that a bit, but hey, why not, it's cute. Do be kind to it, as it was basically an overnighter and I'm horribly out of practice and put my fool heart into it. I might add another chapter with the trip back to Silas if that tickles anyone's fancy or if I simply can't get the ideas to go away (which seems extremely likely).
> 
> Shoutout to carmillakarstein and needykitten for wanting it to happen. And a big hello to any curious cast members (hi Kaitlyn and/or Sharon!) or, god help me, my thesis advisor if she happens upon this (yes, this is why I missed my own self-imposed deadline). To all else, enjoy!

“Wait, wait, no, you were supposed to turn left back there!”

“What?” Danny braked hard, pulling over to the side of the road. “Where?”

“No…wait…” Laura squinted at the map. “Hang on. I think we got it wrong.”

A snicker from the backseat. “I could be there by now, you know.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Not everyone can become a puff of smoke. And you’ve been asleep most of the way.”

“Because we left so _early_.”

Danny yawned. “Well, you’re driving on the way back, so it might be in your best interest to pay attention to where we’re going.”

“Whatever.” But Carmilla was watching her girlfriends more closely now.

Laura leaned across to Danny. “Okay, I don’t get this. We turned right back here, and then went over this bridge—”

“—and through the woods—”

“—you’re not helping. So there should have been a left turn back there just past the sign that said, ‘ _Now Leaving Styria, You’ll Be Back Soon_.’”

“But we passed that like three hours ago,” Danny said.

“No, wait, I just saw it, and that’s when I said to turn left.”

Carmilla smiled to herself and stared out the window. Danny had badly wanted to get away from campus, the last week’s final exams a taxing memory (and she hadn’t even graded them yet), and her enthusiasm had infected Laura, and…well, even if Carmilla’s own relationship with daylight remained complicated, Danny and Laura (oh dear, her pout) were much too persuasive.

“Okay, no, this doesn’t make sense. But it must, somehow. But…” Laura turned to look at the road behind them. Danny had the map now and was hopefully rotating it, but to no avail.

“Maybe it’s too simple. Maybe if it came with a complex, symbol-laden narrative, you’d understand it better.” Carmilla saw Danny and Laura try to keep straight faces, watched the mix of exasperation and amusement betrayed in their eyes anyway. “Okay, fine. Hand it back here.”

Danny passed the map to Carmilla, meeting Laura’s eyes as she did so. “Why do we put up with her?” she teased.

“Because I’m irresistible,” came the low, smug voice from behind the unfolded pages. “Also,” Carmilla said, setting them down, “where did you get this map?”

“A sister gave it to me when I told her where we were going,” Danny said. “She said it’d been floating around the house for ages.”

“No wonder.” Carmilla said. “It’s several decades out of date. I knew the cartographer when she was at Silas.”

“When you say you knew her—“ Laura began. “Never mind.”

“Okay, so, how are we going to…?” Danny gestured vaguely ahead.

“Wait, I thought you knew the way?” Carmilla said

“Well, no, I’ve never actually been out here. I thought we’d try somewhere new.”

“Why didn’t you mention that?” Carmilla said. “I know exactly where we’re going.”

Danny threw up her hands, which lightly struck the car’s ceiling before coming to rest again on the steering wheel. ‘Why didn’t _you_ say _that_? I had to carry you, in an undead sleep, out to the car this morning, and you knew the way this whole time?”

“You guys.” Laura spoke up. “At this rate, it’ll be really late when we get there.”

“It’s probably going to be really late anyway,” Carmilla said.

Laura gave her a meaningful look. “You’re driving,” she ordered.

Carmilla opened her mouth to reply, but Danny already had the door open and was unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Fine.” Carmilla handed the map back to Laura. “How do I adjust this seat,” she said slowly, “so that I can actually reach the pedals and see over the dash?”

Danny, climbing in back, considered tackling her, but Laura did have a point—and there would be more than enough time for that anyway. “Deadweight,” she muttered with a slight smile, aware that the vampire would hear her perfectly. With Carmilla in the driver’s seat, she sprawled out (as much as possible) on the backseat, wondering if she could catch a nap.

Laura heard her father’s voice in her mind warning against the danger of even backseat passengers riding unbuckled, but the thought was almost immediately left behind.

“Holy hellmouth! Carmilla, have you lost your mind?”

“What?” Carmilla shrugged as she took a sharp left turn and the world flashed by alarmingly quickly outside. In the back, Danny pulled herself upright and onto the seat again.

“We’re _mortal!_ And there are speed limits now!”

“Yeah? And who’s going to care about that?”

“ _I do!_ ” Laura turned around to look at Danny in appeal.

“Relax, sweetpea,,” Carmilla said, noting Laura’s hand already loosening its grip on her shoulder, “I have excellent reflexes.”

Danny smiled at Laura and shook her head. “So she likes to drive fast. Maybe if you ask nicely, she’ll let you ride on her back like—”

“Don’t say it.” Despite the terrifying speed, Carmilla drove with ease, as if she’d been doing it for—well, perhaps she had been doing it for that long. Laura made a note to add “past roadtrips” just after “accomplished women she’s known” on her list of things to reconsider asking Carmilla about.

A comfortable silence fell as Danny resettled herself on the backseat, Carmilla retraced a route she knew well, and Laura recovered her breath. A light rain began falling, tapping gently on the windows, and thick, dim forest gave way to expansive grassy fields above which stretched a cloudy sky.

“Perfect weather for a trip,” Carmilla commented. “No, seriously,” she said, catching Laura’s eye. “Even at this rate, it’ll take quite a while before we get there. Here—” Carmilla fiddled with the dials (which Laura caught herself thinking was a bad idea), and soon a thick warmth and quiet strains of music filled the car.

Laura, watching Carmilla, and Danny, drowsing in the back, noticed the change in the air, but it wasn’t just the piano and the cozy breaths of heat—something else was different. “Intense,” was all Laura could think to say, but that didn’t seem precisely the right word. Maybe there wasn’t a right word.

“This is Edvard Grieg,” Carmilla said, “I vaguely remember him. Did I ever tell you guys about when I met him on my trip to Norway?”

“No,” Laura said.

“Yeah,” Carmilla said. “I went a long time ago with—” A shadow passed over her face. “I’ll tell you later.” Realizing how it sounded, she added quietly, “No, really, I will.”

Laura wondered who Carmilla’s disconcerting travel companion had been: Ell, or her mother? But Carmilla was humming along now, trying to bring the earlier peace back, glancing back at Danny slumbering behind her. Laura listened to Carmilla’s voice, as easy as her driving but far more soothing, as it blended with the music, the pattering rain, the rhythmic swishing of the wipers, the occasional gentle snore. They rode like that for a long time, the road and fields around them empty. Almost not wanting to break the spell, Laura said, “Hey, Carmilla? I’m glad you came with us.”

Carmilla smiled and reached up to touch Laura’s hand that still lay on her shoulder. “Of course. Always. Just…” She paused, remembered that no one could interrupt the three of them there, lowered her voice anyway. “Thanks for having just _our_ ginger along. Nothing against the other two, but this”—she gestured vaguely at the three of them—“is all at once comfortably normal and fascinatingly weird, and…they ask too many questions.”

“If you think they’re bad, wait until you meet—” Laura realized what she was about to suggest and looked out the window, blushing.

“She’ll need a script for that,” came Danny’s voice from behind them. “And countless rehearsals.”

“Oh hey, Legs, you’re awake. Like I’ve never met a girl’s parents?” Carmilla challenged.

“Not in at least the last decade, am I right? And you haven’t met Mr. Hollis,” Danny said. “He sends me email periodically to check that Laura's doing all right. Believe me, you’re no match for him.”

“He _what_?” Laura’s blush grew. “You never told me!”

“He asked me not to,” Danny said, meeting Carmilla’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “He didn’t want to make things awkward between you and me, but he obviously approves of us.”

“Suck-up,” Carmilla muttered.

Danny held Carmilla’s gaze but said nothing. Carmilla gave Laura’s hand a squeeze, still smiling slightly. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it. The rain was letting up, and Laura found that Carmilla had been right—it had been lovely weather for a drive.

“Wait, what…the…? No, this isn’t right…” Carmilla leaned forward, half from confusion, half from rapid deceleration. Danny scrabbled for something to hold onto.

“What’s the matter?” Laura peered ahead too, and as the car came to a surprisingly gentle stop, Danny sat up.

“Why are there… _flowers_?” Carmilla’s dismay was apparent.

On both sides of the road, great fields of pink and yellow wildflowers stretched into the distance. Feeble sunlight shone through the clouds, making the wet greenery shimmer faintly. The radio played on, but all seemed strangely still.

“What were you expecting?” Danny said, sounding amused.

Carmilla shook her head, still stunned. “Nothing used to grow here. This area used to be called Asphodel Meadows because the ground was so bare and shrouded in fog that it reminded travelers of legends of the underworld. When I last came out here, it was desolate, inhospitable, sublime, and now”—a sign bearing the familiar name caught her eye—“it’s a _scenic viewpoint_?”

“I thought you knew—I thought that was why we had to talk you into—”

“This,” Carmilla said, indicating their surroundings, “isn’t even asphodel. I would’ve expected at least some degree of accuracy, but that’s the carelessness of this age for you.” She turned to Danny. “I should have known it was a strange place for you to suggest. You _would_ drive all this way for a sea of pink flowers, though…”

At the teasing note in Carmilla’s voice, Danny looked away, hiding her smile as Carmilla pulled off the road.

Laura didn’t bother hiding hers. Sublime or not, there was a satisfaction in arriving here, a sense of completion, at once normal and weird. Everything was just so _right._ She got out of the car and tried not to squeal as the cool air transformed cozy contentment to buoyant joy. In the trunk: a cooler that Danny had insisted on packing, determined that something with a recent relationship with a plant might make it inside (although Laura had still snuck in some goodies); a random-looking assortment of books; a camera Laura had brought along; a can of bear spray LaFontaine had smuggled in as a joke; a black satchel whose mysteries Carmilla had refused to divulge, saying, “I’ll show you later,” but which almost certainly contained her sunscreen, among other things; and—

“Hey, Danny?” Laura called.

“Yeah?”

“It’s going to be kind of wet out there.”

“Look way in the front, behind the cooler,” Danny called back. “I have a tarp in there.” At her girlfriends’ inquiring looks, she shrugged. “What? Always bring a tarp. You never know.”

“My god, this is heavy, is there something in—oh…” Laura froze.

Danny and Carmilla heard the alarm in her voice and came around to look. The tarp, unrolling and tipping on end as Laura pulled it out, revealed an array of stakes that clattered to the ground, pointing in all directions and stark in their paleness against the grass.

Carmilla stiffened, old instincts stirring, old doubts reawakening that she could never fully extinguish.

“I would never—” Danny began, eyes wide, shaking her head.

Silence fell, the three of them staring down in shock. Laura reflected that a second ago, she had been delighting in having reached their destination, but now it was if she were within the city limits again, suddenly and without warning, forgotten danger come rushing back. She felt as if this day, the weeks they’d had together had been poured out of her, leaving her hollow.

Danny felt Carmilla take her hand, and then the tears came. “I would _never_ ,” she repeated, shakily but more emphatically.

“Hey, hey.” Carmilla’s voice was low and gentle. “I know that. I know. It’s okay.”

Danny looked at her, a question still in her eyes.

“I forgave you for that,” Carmilla said. “It’s okay. It scared me too.”

“I—”

“You didn’t know me. None of us did. Look, here.” Carmilla bent over, gathered up the escaped stakes, threw them roughly back into the trunk. “It’s _okay._ Come here.” She held out her arms.

Danny fell into them wordlessly, unsure whether to be relieved or still apologetic or both.

“ _Both_ of you,” Carmilla added.

Laura realized she had been holding her breath, and it came out in a rush. Joining them, she felt herself relaxing again, feeling, breathing. Danny’s embrace was loose, and she was still crying, her hands moving restlessly as if to confirm that Carmilla and Laura were really there, but she was beginning to calm down. Carmilla stood motionless, even more so than usual, holding Danny and Laura gently but firmly. Laura took a deep breath. This was still the same, still good, still safe. “Oh, thank god,” she found herself whispering into them.

Carmilla took a long, deliberate sniff of the air, taking in Danny’s earthiness and Laura’s sweetness and the dissipating warmth, drawing out the moment as the tension faded. She thought for a moment of centuries of existence that had led somehow to embracing a tiny freshman girl who’d actually had the nerve to take on her mother (and who had _won_ ) and a dogged, annoyingly diurnal wannabe-slayer at the edge of a field of wildflowers—and loving it.

The flowers, though…they reminded her of something…and so did the feeling creeping across her skin like the beginning of a…

“Oh…Laura?”

“Mmm?”

“How long did you say that sunscreen lasts?”

“I think LaF got it to last for like four hours?”

“Right, then I need to go reapply. You, sunshine—“ she gave Danny a squeeze “—are still forgiven. I know you only have them on hand now in case I start sparkling out here.” At Danny’s weak laugh, she extricated herself and went to rummage around in the trunk for her bag.

Danny pulled back, looking at Laura with lingering unease in her eyes. “About your dad contacting me…”

Laura burst out laughing, partly out of relief, but caught herself at the sight of Danny’s earnestness. “I don’t care about that. I should practically be apologizing to you on his behalf.”

“But you said…”

“You know,” Laura said, “there’s something about facing an ancient evil while armed only with a spatula that makes me think he’ll always have a harder time sheltering me from now on.”

Nodding, Danny allowed herself a small smile. “I guess that’s true.” Then she caught sight of something, her eyes widening for an instant. Laura turned to look and immediately understood.

Carmilla’s shirt lay at her feet, and she stood beside the car slathering herself with sunscreen with the concentration of one for whom getting burnt is serious business.

“I wonder if we’ll ever get used to that,” Laura mused.

Danny laughed. “I hope not.” She whistled. A few feet away with her back to them, Carmilla fought a blush and lost.

Laura let herself lean lightly against Danny. “It’s already been such a crazy day, and we just got here.”

Danny wrapped an arm around her. “Oh man, and you’re next up for driving tonight, too.” She thought for a moment. “Hey,” she whispered, one eye on Carmilla. “I know what we could do to stay awake…do you know the lyrics to…State of Grace? How You Get The Girl? Or…Stay Stay Stay?”

Laura caught on at once. She met Danny’s eyes, looked back at Carmilla, looked up at Danny again. “Oh, we definitely have to do that now. No trip is complete without singing.”

Laughing, their plan concocted, Laura and Danny joined Carmilla, who was singlehandedly unloading the cooler and who had no idea of the night she was in for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It had to happen: almost as soon as the first chapter was finished, I thought, I have to take it further. And even before I got to the "comma in, comma out" stage of revision for this chapter, I saw that there was unquestionably more to come.
> 
> A million thanks to the sweet people who left kudos, comments, bookmarks on this. Truth be told, I was utterly surprised and thrilled to find that I'd pleased you, and I hope I can pull it off again. Enjoy this new chapter!

Long after nightfall, the peace of the slumbering countryside was still broken by the headlights and rumbling motor of a car full of song.

“Stand there like a ghost, shaking from the rain, rain,” Laura and Danny sang. Carmilla had been radiating quiet disapproval nearly since they’d begun, but they’d paid her no mind. “She’ll open up the door and say, are you insane?”

“And I will say yes, clearly I must be,” came the voice from the backseat. “Haven’t we already had this song? Do we really have to go all the way back to the beginning?”

“Hey, it’s still just as good the second time,” Laura said. At the halfhearted murmur of disagreement, she glanced back at Carmilla. “Okay, well, if you’re so cultured, why don’t you sing something?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Danny said. “You probably know all sorts of…oh gosh, you probably know really old stuff that was never even recorded. Come on…let us hear something…”

“Nah, I’m not in the mood. I’ve just been subjected to a full-volume recounting of Taylor Swift’s entire sad love life, _backwards_.”

“Suit yourself. Say it’s been a long six—you know, she does kind of have a point,” Laura said. “It is mostly breakup songs.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Danny admitted. She suspected even she and Laura were beginning to tire of them. “I don’t remember nearly anything else as well, though. Except…okay, you can’t take issue with this. This one’s for you, Carm.” She cleared her throat and began reciting: “She was a Phantom of delight when first she gleam’d upon my sight; a lovely Apparition, sent—”

Carmilla snorted. “Bullshit. You thought I was a bloodsucking abomination who kidnapped girls and was going to bite your crush. And Laura wasn’t keen on me either. Not exactly a lovely apparition, if I recall.”

“Okay, so I’m embellishing a little. I still don’t hear you coming up with any suggestions. Laura, do you know this one?”

Laura nodded. She loved it and knew it well. “A lovely Apparition, sent to be a moment’s ornament: her eyes as stars of twilight fair; like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair—”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Carmilla sank deeper into the backseat, still more than anything glad that the singing had stopped. Not that Laura and Danny had bad voices, but the use they put them to…this was much, much better.

“But all things else about her drawn…oh no.” Laura tried to keep a straight face. “All things else about her drawn from May-time and the _cheerful dawn_. That’s it,” she said to Carmilla. “From now on, I’m calling you Cheerful Dawn.”

“You just go right ahead and do that, cupcake.”

“A dancing shape, an image gay, to haunt, to startle, and waylay.”

“Do that and there’ll be no startling and waylaying.”

Laura pouted. “You don’t mean that.”

Danny laughed. “I saw her upon nearer view,” she began again.

“A Spirit, yet a Woman too!” Laura joined in, and Carmilla’s girlfriends spoke in unison, Laura thrilling to the sound as they drew out the line. “Her household motions—”

They looked at each other. “What household motions? Did I miss them?” Danny asked. Another murmur of disagreement from the back. “Whatever.”

“Household motions light and free, and steps of virgin liberty; a countenance in which did meet, sweet records, promises as sweet,“ they went on.

Laura paused to think. “The next part’s not as good, all ‘creature not too bright’ and ‘simple wiles.’ Should we skip it?” Danny nodded.

“And now I see with eye serene the very pulse of the machine; a being breathing thoughtful breath, a traveler between life and death…”

“And back again.” Danny looked back, and saw Carmilla grinning despite herself. “Gee, Carm, did Wordsworth know you or something?” She took Laura’s hand.

“No, I need both of those to drive.”

“No, you don’t. I get this one. Shall we go on?”

“The reason firm, the temperate will, endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; a _perfect Woman, nobly plann’d to warn, to comfort, and command…_ ”

Carmilla couldn’t quite name what was in their voices—the poets were up front, after all—but it had been flitting in and out of them all day, and it tickled her. The world had shrunk to the size of their car, and now that Taylor Swift had made her long-awaited exit, everything was pretty damn good.

“And yet!” Danny gestured dramatically with her free hand as they finished. “A Spirit still, and bright with something of angel light.”

Silence fell for a moment, the words settling into place. The road still slipped by below them, Laura’s driving far slower and more cautious than her girlfriends’ but just as smooth and even in the night.

“Shit,” Danny said. “That’s the most fun I’ve ever had with that poem. Now, was that so bad?”

“No,” Carmilla said. “That was…really nice.”

“We have a winner,” Danny said. “Hey Laura, how’re you doing on energy?”

Laura wished she hadn’t asked—thinking about it made her yawn. “I’m fine. You and Carmilla drove most of the way up.”

“Yeah, but we also got naps, and you didn’t,” Danny countered. “You want one of us to take a turn?”

“Ohhh, I suppose maybe you should…” Laura pulled over. “I guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some sleep. God knows what time it is by now.” She climbed in back and curled up on the seat as Danny came around to take over the wheel and Carmilla moved up front.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Carmilla asked.

“Don’t you start with me.”

“Well, all right then.” Carmilla reclined her seat a little and propped her feet up on the dashboard. She picked up her cup of blood she’d left in the cupholder, gave it a shake, sucked hopefully from the straw, but it was empty. “Take us home.”

 _We are home_ , Laura thought, already beginning to drift off. It was surprisingly soft back there, and the vibrations of a car motor had always made her drowsy since she was a little girl. But then she heard—

“ _Au clair de la lune, mon ami Pierrot, prête-moi ta plume pour écrire un mot…”_ Carmilla’s voice rose, soft and low and melodious. Danny’s breath caught in her throat for a second, and she thought she heard Laura gasp behind her. “ _Ma chandelle est morte, je n’ai plus de feu. Ouvre-moi ta porte pour l’amour de Dieu…”_

Danny looked at Carmilla. Her eyes were closed, one hand still curled around the cup, the other resting behind her head. Save for the song, she was completely inert, at peace.

“ _Au clair de la lune, Pierrot répondit: Je n’ai pas de plume, je suis dans mon lit. Va chez la voisine, je crois qu’elle y est, car dans sa cuisine on bat le briquet..._ “

 _“Ohhh, fuuuuck...”_ murmured a voice from the backseat.

Carmilla’s eyes snapped open. Granted, the song _was_ a double entendre, but she hadn’t meant it that way. Danny felt something spark in her, and the car swerved.

Carmilla snickered. “Easy there, firecracker,” she said, laying a hand on Danny’s wrist. Danny blushed.

“… _please_ …” More urgent this time.

Danny and Carmilla shot a look at each other, hands joining, their minds as one: _Holy shit. Is she talking to you? Me? Both of us?_

“…don’t tell me it’s really due _tomorrow…_ ”

The spell was broken. Danny and Carmilla clutched each other’s hands tighter, trying not to burst out laughing lest they wake Laura.

“Does she always…?”

“Not always,” Carmilla said. “But since things calmed down, more often than you’d think.”

“She’s really something.” Danny loosened her grip on Carmilla’s hand, stroking it with her thumb.

“You don’t say.”

“So are you, you know.”

“…but I don’t give a damn about bioluminescence…”

“Oh, I’d be nothing without—”

“Bullshit. I know you have to keep your air of aloofness and mystery,” Danny said, “but we _like_ you.” She reached up to ruffle Carmilla’s hair, but her fingers met something unexpected. “Oh,” she said, laughing. “I’d forgotten that was there.”

“How could you forget?” Carmilla gestured up at the circlet of flowers adorning her hair. “How could you forget, after all the time it took for you to convince me to wear the thing?”

“…well, then why is it in a can?”

Carmilla glanced at Danny, who was again fighting laughter, the grin on her face quivering with effort. “Should I finish the song?”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “It was really pretty. Like—” Oh dear, the night was getting to her. “Yes, please do.”

“ _Au clair de la lune, l’aimable Lubin_ _frappe chez la brune, elle r_ _épond soudain_ —wait, you’ve missed that turn again.”

“No, I didn’t. We’re not there yet.”

“Yes, yes we are. Or we were. You were supposed to turn right at the fork.”

“What fork?”

“The one you missed.”

“Carmilla! I didn’t, I swear!” She turned to her passenger in mock seriousness. “Carmilla Karnstein, don’t make me turn this car around and—”

Carmilla cracked a smile. “And what, drive all the way back to the middle of nowhere? Sleeping outside under your tarp, that’s rustic even for you.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s stop and figure this out.” Danny sighed and pulled to the side of the road. “But I’m telling you, I’m sure we’re not there yet. That’s just past the sign that says, _Now Entering Styria, Turn Back Now_ , which we haven’t passed yet _._ ”

“Why are we stopped?” Laura was awake now. “Are we lost?”

“We’re _not_ lost,” Danny and Carmilla said in unison.

Laura peered out the rear window. “Weren’t we supposed to turn back there?”

“See?” Carmilla made no effort to conceal her triumph.

“Seriously?” Danny shook her head. “All right, majority rule wins.” She made to pull back onto the road again but was interrupted by a rumble. “Carm, you hungry? Want to grab something out of the trunk?”

“Yeah, that might be…oh, goddammit.” Carmilla’s face fell. “I left it back in that field. That’ll be something for somebody to find.”

“Oooh.” Laura drew in her breath. “That sucks.”

“Eh, it’s not that bad,” Carmilla said airily. “In case you’ve forgotten, I can go for days.”

“That still sucks,” Laura said.

“Well, hey, nobody wanted to let me bite the gas station attendant, all ‘ohhh, it’s not nice, she’s a stranger, you don’t know where she’s been…’”

“And you didn’t! You wouldn’t just eat _food_ that was just lying…oh wait, never mind. I swear, Carmilla, sometimes I just can’t believe you.”

Danny had tuned them out. An idea had occurred to her, at once crazy and irresistible. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before, but she also couldn’t believe she was considering it now.

“Would you like to…?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, would you…?”

Carmilla looked at her, suddenly serious and more than a little surprised. “Do you want me to?”

Danny blushed. God, why was she so nervous? Of all the things to get flustered about…and yet she was, without a doubt, completely flustered.

“Yes,” she said, trying to make her voice sound even and confident—and largely failing.

Carmilla, taking Danny’s hand again, could feel her pulse racing. “Danny.” She watched the blue eyes meet hers, watched her struggle not to look away. “Listen, you don’t have to. Really. If this is because of what happened earlier,” she said, as the image of the scattered stakes flashed through her mind, “don’t worry about it. You don’t have to do this for me.”

Danny nodded. “I know.”

“Are you sure?” Carmilla asked Danny. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” Danny repeated. “I—I _want_ you to…”

“Laura?” Carmilla asked.

“It’s okay,” Laura said, reaching up to squeeze Danny’s shoulder. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. And she supposed it might be weird, but she was _curious_ , almost as nervous as they were. “I’m all for it. Go ahead, Carm.”

Carmilla smiled. “All right, then.” She set the flower crown on the dashboard, opened her door, and got out. “Come up front here with me.”

Her girlfriends followed her, Danny looking back at Laura.

Danny sat on the hood of the car. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Carmilla looked at her in the light of the full moon, took in the blue eyes in which dogged bravery blazed, the ginger eyebrows above them drawn just a little tighter than usual, the arms wrapped unconsciously around the long body. “Relax,” she said, glancing significantly at Laura.

Laura came over to take Danny’s hand. “It’s okay. You can still say no…”

“No,” Danny whispered, holding on tight, not caring if Carmilla heard. “It’s completely crazy, but I want this.”

“It’s not crazy,” Laura said. “Just breathe.” She laid a hand on Carmilla’s back, somehow wanting to be everywhere at once. She thanked her luck that they were alone on the road that night—they would have made a strange trio of stopped motorists, and nobody else needed to see this.

Carmilla was coming closer now. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. Danny thought her senses might finally give out.

She closed her eyes, focusing on Laura’s hand, soft yet solid in hers. She felt Carmilla’s fingers, barely warm, ghost across her neck as they pulled her hair back, tucking it behind her shoulder. The cool night air hit the exposed skin, and it swelled with goosebumps. She took a shaky breath, feeling exposed, and despite Laura’s and Carmilla’s insistence, she couldn’t help thinking, _I must be crazy to be doing this. I’m sitting on the hood of my car on the side of the road in the middle of the night, about to be bitten by a vampire—and wanting it so completely._ Carmilla’s hand was on her cheek now, gently angling her head to one side, thumb absently stroking along her jaw. Laura was still there, but everything else was Carmilla’s hair falling onto her, Carmilla’s faint scent—something spicy she couldn’t name—and Carmilla taking her free hand, squeezing it, whispering, “Deep breath, Buffy, it’s not like I’m going to lose my soul over this. Now, you’re going to feel a little prick…”

Something shifted ever so slightly in her—and Danny burst into nervous, irrepressible laughter.

Laura fought to keep a straight face, and Carmilla drew back, smiling a little herself. “Okay, no. I can’t do this if you’re laughing. You have to hold still, or I’ll miss, and it’ll _hurt_.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Danny said, opening her eyes and blinking a few times. “I just—” Laughter overcame her again, and she doubled over, still holding onto Laura and Carmilla.

“No rush,” Carmilla said, the corner of her mouth quirking, as she brushed a lock of hair from Danny’s forehead. “We’ve got all night.” She looked at Laura and saw that Laura’s eyes were practically glowing.

Danny caught her breath, gave her head a brisk shake to steady herself. “Okay,” she said. “I think I’m finally ready now.” She tilted her head, closed her eyes, and waited.

Carmilla’s hand was on her cheek again, holding her steady. Carmilla bent lower and her fangs broke the skin. Danny sucked in a breath with a hiss. In an instant, though, the fangs were replaced by Carmilla’s lips, cool but quickly warming, wrapping around the bite. Carmilla drew it into her mouth, sucking, drinking in long pulls, her tongue flickering slowly across the skin. Danny’s grip on her girlfriends’ hands tightened, and she could feel Carmilla almost smiling against her neck in response.

Laura watched, transfixed. She could see Carmilla swallowing, the bob in her throat, her face completely obscured. A flush was rising in Danny’s face, and her eyebrows unknit as the pain already started to ease. Laura’s own cheeks began to burn, and she suddenly found Danny’s hand small and woefully insufficient in the midst of this swelling moment.

Danny felt the lips leave her, too soon, and she opened her eyes again. The night struck them, the darkness thick, shrubbery and grass standing out pale and too-solid in the headlights, the world expanding once more beyond its brief contraction to lips and fangs and tongue and hands. Carmilla raised her head and placed a few fingers over the bite to stanch the flow of blood.

“Laura?” she said. “Can you come over here? I’m going to go get some bandages.”

Laura climbed onto the hood next to Danny and took Carmilla’s place.

Danny looked at her. “What’s gotten you bothered?” she asked, eyes bright but a little unfocused. “You didn’t even get bitten.”

Laura blushed harder.

“Where are they?” came Carmilla’s voice from the general direction of the glovebox.

“Are they not there?” Danny called. “I thought for sure I had them in there.”

“Hey, Carmilla,” Laura said. “Check the trunk. I think I’ve got a first-aid kit in there. My dad,” she muttered. “Something about an apple and a tree. God help me.”

“By the way,” Danny whispered to Laura with a small smile, suddenly remembering, “it’s _not_ due tomorrow—whatever it is, Laura, we’re on _break_.”

Carmilla returned with the kit and passed it to Laura. She savored the taste of Danny in her mouth. Running her tongue over her lips, she stepped back partially into the darkness to be with her thoughts, which she found were unexpectedly busy.

Laura withdrew the bandages. The bleeding had already slowed greatly, much faster than she had expected. She knelt on the car’s hood so she could look down at Danny’s puncture, for a moment noting how strange it was to be looking down at Danny at all…at least, in these circumstances.

Danny felt Laura’s fingers, stroking curiously and experimentally across the bite—then her lips, softly pressing against the mark, lingering there like a reminder and a promise of things to come. Then her fingers again, smoothing the bandage onto the skin—one pass, two, three, and once more with the second puncture.

Laura let her hand rest against Danny’s neck, feeling the heat still rising in it, then straightened up a little taller to appraise her work. “All better?”

Danny nodded and looked up at her, her gaze soft. The fear was gone. Laura saw pride in her eyes, a slight hint of triumph, unmistakable satisfaction. She understood it at once and fervently hoped it was mirrored in her own.

Lowering herself down, she sat next to Danny and put an arm around her waist. Carmilla, seeing that the patching-up was finished, joined her on Danny’s other side. They sat there, staring into the dark.

“So,” said Danny after a while, “how do I taste?”

Carmilla chuckled. “You still have to ask me that?”

“My _blood_.” Danny gave Carmilla a shove. “Pervert.”

“Danny,” Laura said, “I just want you to know beforehand, it doesn’t matter what she says. Did I tell you about how it went down when she bit _me_? No warning, I thought she was going for a kiss, not so much as a ‘may I…’ And then as she was packing up to flee, leaving me practically defenseless against her evil family, I heard her complaining about how I tasted far too sweet— _right before she made a move to take my chocolate with her_.”

Carmilla looked away. “Oh, believe me, if I could do it all over again, _sweetheart_ …”

“You’ll have a chance,” Laura said meaningfully. “Count on it.”

Danny laughed. At the sound, Carmilla looked up at her. “As for you…you’re yummy, don’t get me wrong, but you’re tough to figure out. Rich, earthy, still sweet. I’ll have to think about it.”

Laura leaned against Danny. “We should go home.”

“If we remember where home is,” Carmilla said, still looking at Danny.

“Oh, stop. I know where we’re going. But…” Danny thought for a moment. “Should I be driving?”

“I don’t know,” Carmilla admitted. “Maybe not. I can take a turn.”

Laura got into position in the back again, looking in advance for something to hold onto as Danny climbed in. Carmilla started the engine, smiled to herself, and took off. As the world flew by, Laura felt herself beginning to doze, although the image of Carmilla bent over Danny’s neck kept randomly popping into her mind, startling her not unpleasantly awake again.

They rode in silence, until Carmilla’s thoughts urged her to speak. “Hey,” she said, glancing at her girlfriends. “I know you guys are going to be busy comparing your first bites forever, but…that was kind of a first for me too.”

“How?” Laura asked. “You must’ve bitten god knows how many people over the centuries.”

“Yeah,” Carmilla said in wonderment, “but not like this— _never_ like this. You might not believe me, but in all this time…” God, she wasn’t going to cry, was she? Vampires didn’t cry. She composed herself, but she couldn’t hide the tenderness. “In all this time, nobody’s ever asked me to.”

She felt Danny’s hand come to rest on her back. She heard the dawning realization, heard Laura say, “Oh my god…so you’ve had to just…”

“It’s okay,” she said, still trying to keep her thoughts in order and with words attached to them, which was getting harder by the second. “It’s not something anyone asks for…except you.” Out of the corner of her eye, she peeked at Danny, who was looking intently out the window at the trees flashing past them. “Which makes you ridiculously brave,” she continued, staring ahead. “And I—” _Oh, come on_ …She growled quietly in frustration.

She felt Danny rubbing in slow strokes across her back: _I know_.

Laura’s own heart squeezed in the way that often foreboded a squeal, but she just grinned in the dark backseat and curled tighter into herself, wondering if she could condense into a ball of pure happiness and love. If she couldn’t, she thought, this car seemed close enough.

Danny let herself turn away from the sight of the hurtling trees and closed her eyes again, absently fingering the bandages, listening to the whoosh of the road…

Someone was shaking her. “Hey. Hey, sweet potato. We’re home.”

“Mmm? Ow.” She opened her eyes and the harsh lights of the parking lot flooded them at once. She stretched. Carmilla was leaning down beside her.

“We’re home,” Carmilla whispered.

Danny got out and opened the back door. Laura was still asleep, still balled up as small as possible despite having the full backseat to herself. “Oh god, she’s so cute like that…”

“Mmmm.” Carmilla nodded. “That’s why I woke you. Do you want to take her in, or should I?” As Danny turned to her, she said, “You can do it if you want to; you’re not that weakened.”

Danny bent down, wondering for a moment how best to approach the unwieldy shape that was Laura. “Here we go,” she said, easing Laura closer.

Laura made a muffled, incoherent noise and snuggled into Danny. As she made her way to the dorm with Laura in her arms and Carmilla walking at her side, she couldn’t help but feel strangely victorious—was that it? That was usually what this meant. Triumphant? Fulfilled?

Whatever it was, her introspection was cut short by the sight and immediate sound of a ginger figure in a floral nightgown.

_“Where have you been?”_

“Shhhh!” Carmilla held a finger to her lips. “Can’t you see Laura’s asleep?”

Perry softened, but barely. “As she should be. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“No,” Danny admitted.

“And she—and she _bit you_ ,” Perry said, her eyes flitting upward. She planted herself in front of the door to Laura and Carmilla’s room. “And you were supposed to _call_. I’ve been awake waiting for you to come home.”

“Perr?” LaFontaine appeared in her doorway, disheveled in a t-shirt and boxers. “Why did you get up? Is everything all right?” They caught sight of the returning trio. “Oh, hey guys. Good trip?”

Perry shot them a look, turned back to Danny and Carmilla, dithered, shook her head. “Go to _bed_ ,” she finished, turning back to her own room and pulling LaFontaine with her.

Carmilla and Danny shared a smile as they walked into Laura and Carmilla’s room. Danny saw that the beds were joined, and she wondered how long they’d been that way, if Laura and Carmilla still ever separated them during the day. She gently deposited Laura on her back in the middle.

Laura began sleepily protesting the loss of warmth. Carmilla set her circlet of flowers to hang jauntily on the bedpost and crawled into bed, draping herself across Laura’s chest.

 _This is usually the point where I’ve asked if they wanted me to stay_ , Danny thought. But at that moment, as she lingered indecisively beside the bed, the bite at her neck throbbed, just a little, and she saw that Carmilla herself was giving her a look that could only possibly mean _are you serious? what are you standing there for_? So she turned off the lights and sat down at the edge of the bed to unlace her boots, the day still whirling through her mind. Screw pajamas—she slipped under the covers.

She found Carmilla’s arm, stroked along its length, held it across Laura’s body. Laura rolled into her, and she tucked Laura’s head just under her chin, nuzzling her hair and inhaling the scent of vanilla and lavender and Laura and whatever the pink and yellow wildflowers had been.

“Good night, Laura…Carm.” She planted a kiss in the middle of the flowers and ran her fingers through Carmilla’s hair, hearing Carmilla purr in answer. Cozy in the arms of her girlfriends, Laura sighed happily in her sleep.

Danny smiled into her. “Exactly,” she murmured, letting warmth and sleep overcome her. “Exactly how I feel.”


End file.
